Temper, Temper
by scntlla
Summary: Old habits die hard. (Caitlin & Darach, and what could've been.)


The Battle Palace was a beautiful place. The outside of it was pristine white, with teal tiles and towers that reached the sky. The interior was awash with the same blue color, accentuated by gold and red—banners and carpets and tapestries hung everywhere, reminding trainers that they were in a place of royalty, a place of _beauty. _

Reminding them that the princess, Caitlin, oversaw everything, and her wishes were granted by the staff. The trainers couldn't help but wonder why Caitlin didn't battle them herself, and instead had her servant, Darach, battle them in her place. The girl was haughty and ordered around Darach needlessly, so surely she could stand to face the trainers themselves?

What they didn't know was that her temper was unmanageable at times. The moment a trainer left her domain, filled to the brim with BP after defeating Darach in a heated battle, she nearly exploded. Her body was in one piece, of course, and what suffered were the tapestries, which ripped themselves free and tore themselves into shreds. After them went the busts, the vases, the flowers growing by the window sill.

Caitlin, enraged, destroyed everything.

She hadn't even moved from her spot at the mezzanine, simply clutching her head while screaming into the air.

"Why do I keep losing?!" she shrieked. The carpets rolled up and tumbled down the stairs, chasing away the scared maids and butlers.

Only Darach remained calm in the face of the storm. "My liege, you lost nothing. It was I that lost to the trainers, so that—"

"Why do _you _keep losing, then?!" Caitlin's body was enveloped in a pink aura, and she levitated herself ten feet into the air, high above the balcony and almost touching the ceiling of the reception room. Her hair fanned out like wings behind her, with waves of energy emanating from her core.

Darach gulped, but remained calm as he approached her slowly.

She screamed. "This isn't _fair! _I'm tired of losing! I'm tired of watching! I want to do something! I _need_ to do something! I need—"

"My Lady, won't you please calm down?"

"I _am _calm!"

"You are not," Darach insisted. "Your temper is getting the best of you again. Lady Caitlin, won't you please come down here and look me in the eye? Please."

She inhaled deeply, and the psychic energy seemed to freeze itself in time. The room went dark, but the carpets, tapestries, and other objects paused in mid-destruction, and the fearful handmaids quit their whimpering to witness Darach at work.

No wonder he was the favorite among them all.

Who else would approach Lady Caitlin in this manner?

She sobbed. "I...I'm sorry. I've forgotten, I've—"

"Now, now, it is quite alright," he said. His voice was only kindness and silk, falling onto Caitlin like a veil. "Please, lower yourself before you get hurt."

The girl gasped and realized she had levitated herself into a frenzy. She waved her hand, slowly floating down at once, until her feet touched the floor.

The second she landed, she ran into Darach's arms, weeping. "Oh, Darach! Forgive me, forgive me! I, I—"

"I never blamed you," he muttered, running a hand through her soft hair. "Never once have I blamed you. Please, Caitlin, at the very least, you mustn't blame yourself, either."

"...Yes," she agreed. "You're right. You're always right."

"Not always," he denied. His heart ached and yearned for her—his heart _screamed _out at him to confess his feelings already, and cement their relationship into something more than master and servant.

His head silenced his wishes, selfish as they were.

His head always won. "_Not always_."

.

.

The Unova Pokemon League was a rustic place. Situated at the northernmost point of the region, trainers had to scale a mountain and face various challenges along the Victory Road before they even had a _chance _at facing the Elite Four and Champion, themselves.

The rooms inside were beautiful. Marble hallways with different doors, each of them leading to a different member of the Elite Four. It all depended on the challenger, see. Would they find themselves in Marshal's fighting ring, surrounded by stage lights and high-rise platforms? Or maybe they would stumble into Shauntal's room, where ghostly lamps illuminated a library—walls covered endlessly with shelves of books and stacks of paper, while the ghostly writer herself would appear almost out of thin air. They might even arrive in Grimsley's lair, where the dark claws would unfurl and reveal a dimly lit space, whose only noticeable feature was a black leather sofa and a color-scheme reminiscent of a casino.

Other times, challengers found themselves in Caitlin's domain, where silvery stars invaded their space, and a singular white rose sat in the middle of the room, blooming and vanishing to reveal Caitlin within, who floated down to the floor slowly and gently—greeting the trainer in question.

Her hair had grown so long since her childhood, and wavy as if her own power surged through it. Her clothes were soft, silky, and pink. It was still her favorite color, even after all this time.

Instead of anger, she looked upon the trainers with consideration, a quiet yawn stifled by her manicured nails.

She was bored, or simply tired. It didn't matter either way, and the trainers facing her always had some sort of trepidation, like they were somehow bothering her.

"Hello," she greeted calmly. "I am Caitlin of the Elite Four. You are bold to disturb my sleep, so it must be a battle which you seek. In that case, show me a grand time."

No temper, no anger, no destruction apparent. Just cold control as she summons her first partner, Musharna, out onto the field. And like the sleeping pokemon, Caitlin herself is dreamy, cool, distant, but _aware. _

She smiles, destroying her past and reawakening her present in one, singular motion.

"Make it worth my while."

.

.

Years later, and Darach still waits on her, even though she is no longer a princess. He buys a round trip ticket to Unova, only so he can visit her vacation home in Undella Town and clean it dutifully, every summer, right on time.

They never meet, because he plans it so carefully that Caitlin is too busy with her Elite Four responsibilities to meet with him in person. He leaves notes, instead, and sometimes texts. She answers in kind, saying that he really ought to stay once in a while—_reconnect _with her, as he knows, it's been years!

He always ignores her. Not because he hates her, but because he loves her too much to worry her. She has grown up, becoming much more than the irate girl who blew up at the smallest of things. She took the initiative to come to Unova on her own, after all, leaving her friends and family behind as she sought a greater path. And now she lives in a region far away from his, separated by distances that are more than just physical.

On the last summer of his servitude to her, he leaves a large envelope behind, filled with pictures and memories of their childhood together. He mentions that he is engaged, now, and so this is the last time he will come to Unova. Him and his beloved plan on moving to Galar, or Kalos, having fallen in love with the cultural beauty whilst on vacation. He says he will miss her, but she should forget about him, and continue living the life she was always meant to live.

He says goodbye, and for the first time in a long time, Caitlin is angry.

She tears up his letter and burns all the pictures.

She doesn't move a single muscle.


End file.
